


Constant

by OShibutts



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Other, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OShibutts/pseuds/OShibutts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tailgate shares his hobby of stargazing with Cyclonus. A short ficlet purely for fluff and inspired by late night musings and music~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constant

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first official dabbling into the TF fanfiction front. Its not nearly as wonderful as some of the other things on here but I wanted to write this and contribute to the fandom!

_Stars_.

No matter where you went the stars were always there, omnipotent in their presence, burning bright enough to show across hundreds of light years away. He'd always found that to be something as a steady constant, something fixed that he could find solace in with the world he knew having changed so much.

Tailgate's visor flickered dimly in the dark of the hab suite, the minibot having perched by the window on a small ledge to watch. For the moment he was alone, having prior come looking for his large and rather stoic roommate only to find that he was nowhere to be found. While he was sure that Cyclonus had better things to do than participate in his silly hobby, Tailgate couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed he couldn't share.

 

Or even _ask_ for that matter.

 

He ex-vented a sigh, chin resting on his servo as his visor brightened, watching a particularly luminescent star come into view. With how it shown he could have sworn it was pulsing, beating like a spark. The little mech smiled inwardly at the thought – stars being sparks.. While he mused quietly there at the window, his dour roommate made a return – staring.

Cyclonus questioned very little that Tailgate did, his business was his own and he had no intention to pry. Red optics squinted a bit in the dark as he registered the small silhouetted form of the minibot on the window's ledge. For a moment's brevity the purple jet could only stare, mildly intrigued, before he cleared his intake, “Tailgate.” In response the little white mech snapped around and nearly went tumbling over, servo flying up in a startled wave.

 

“O-Oh! Cyclonus! Hi! You scared me..!” he clambered down from his perch and stood a bit awkwardly a few paces from the window, “I was looking for you earlier.” The old jet quirked a brow ridge, slowly crossing his arms over his broad chest. Without needing to speak he leveled a questioning gaze, expecting an answer. Naturally, when ever those sharp optics leveled that look on him he would stammer out a response, fidgeting, “I-I oh.. well! Um.. I was wondering i-if you'd.. its kinda silly an--”

 

“Spit it out.”

 

Tailgate jumped a bit, leave it to Cyclonus to spook him twice in less than ten minutes, “I.. I was wondering i-if.. you'd sit with me? And stargaze?”

It was a simple enough request though in his chest he could feel his spark twisting erratically, hoping to Primus that he'd not made a bigger fool of himself. Really, he was already regretting having asked, his small frame fidgeting and squirming under that scrutinizing gaze. He felt smaller than he actually was and wanted to retreat from embarrassment, but he found himself surprised when Cyclonus moved past him to stand by the window.

While he'd not made a verbal agreement, Tailgate took that as a “yes” closing the gap between himself, the window, and the jet. He climbed back onto his ledge, optical visor bright and glowing as he settled himself in. Cyclonus gave a slight turn of his head toward the minibot, his stony features cut the darkness itself in the dim light with only the stars to brighten the suite. It seemed like he barely moved as a clawed servo reached for the nearby chair that had been by the larger mech's berth, Cyclonus settling into the seat. Having made himself comfortable he finally took the time to speak up, optics never leaving the window.

 

“It is a beautiful view.”

 

To Tailgate that.. was a bit of a surprise, but the little mech smiled, perking up happily. While the meaning of the words was actually lost on him, the cryptic old mech simply let him take them at face value.

For a time they sat in a comfortable silence watching the myriad of lights beyond the portal, each contemplating and enjoying the private peace. It came softly at first, growing in timber to fill the room with a thick and reverberating melancholy, yet so tender – so bittersweet. Tailgate turned to see Cyclonus lips moving, the deep lines of his face contorting to form the words of a song that only he knew. Something from days past, something that spoke to his spark even though he couldn't understand it at all. It was only when he took notice of the little white mech's staring that he stopped.

Tailgate was about to pipe up and tell him not to stop, instead noticing that Cyclonus gave a gentle pat to his lap, inviting Tailgate over. A rush of energon flooded up to his facial plating, the tinge of pink was hard to miss even in the low light as he slipped down to his pedes. He shuffled over and managed to climb onto the other's lap without making too much of a commotion, settling in with a little sigh. It wasn't terribly often that Cyclonus was in a mood to hold him like this, but he wouldn't make mention of it. He'd enjoy it for now.

 

The stars, the closeness, and the simple peace of shared company.

 

His posture relaxed a little, frame sagging lightly as the low tones of that song started up again though quieter. The minibot could feel the rumbling in that big chassis, a pleasant and constant hum. He smiled, optical visor having dimmed substantially as he felt the lyrics lull his processor into a blissful haze. Cyclonus minutely pulled the smaller frame close, cradling him gently and never missing a single note. Deft servos stroked along his back, the jet finding himself relaxing his own tensed posture.

 

Before long Tailgate found himself powering down into recharge with the constant presence of stars and song.


End file.
